Captive Bride (33 page)

 
When Hawk began to speak a foreign tongue, Rozalyn peered bewilderedly at him. Bravely, she darted a glance at the warriors, who were studying her as if she were a piece of merchandise they were considering purchasing. One brave circled around her, scrutinizing her from all angles. Then he reached out to lift a tangled strand of her hair, making Roz flinch uncomfortably.

"What is going on here?" Rozalyn wanted to know.

 
"Quiet," Hawk ordered, without taking his eyes off the chief. "Chief Zitkatanka and I are bartering."

 
Rozalyn breathed an exasperated sigh and impatiently followed Hawk's conversation with the Sioux chief, though she didn't know what they were discussing so seriously.

 
"Wiwasteka," the chief acknowledged as he surveyed Rozalyn with piercing black eyes.

Hawk nodded agreeably. "Wastewayakapiwin."

 
A faint smile skipped across Zitkatanka's weather-beaten face. Then he turned his attention to the three braves who were clustered about him and gave an order.

 
Suddenly the Sioux braves swarmed around Rozalyn, uprooting her from her perch and placing her in front of one of them. She screeched in indignation, and her wild blue eyes flew to Hawk who was grinning like the ornery weasel he was.

 
"What have you done?" Rozalyn shrieked at him. Unsuccessfully she tried to free herself. The brave appeared to have no intention of allowing her to escape from his bone-crushing grasp.

 
"I have traded you for the right to hunt and trap in the Sioux nation this winter," Hawk casually informed her, only to be assaulted by a string of curses. "Chief Zitkatanka promises to hold you in high esteem, and he also says you are a very beautiful prize."

 
"You refused to give me to Half-Head and yet you eagerly trade me to the Sioux?" Roz hissed as she was led away. "I have heard what Indians do to captive white women. Damn you, Hawk!"

 
"I thought you would be pleased with the arrangements since you have no fond attachment to me or Half-Head." He chuckled, massaging his aching shoulder. "Besides, what better place to stash you for safekeeping than with the Sioux? Half-Head won't go near their camp; the Sioux and Blackfoot are mortal enemies."

 
As the Indians carted Rozalyn away, kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs, the smile vanished from Hawk's lips. Wearily, he slumped in his saddle, his body crying out for much needed rest. But he could not stop, not just yet. He had to ensure that Half-Head had no chance of finding Rozalyn. She had dared to turn her pistol on Half-Head and he was merciless and vengeful. Hawk knew full well what would happen if Half-Head got his hands on that fiery beauty. The thought made him shudder uncontrollably, and he quickly cast the ghastly picture from his mind, turning his thoughts to his purpose.

 
Hawk had made arrangements with Chief Zitkatanka, promising to deliver fur pelts for trade if the Sioux would keep watch over Rozalyn until he had settled his score with Half-Head. His gaze shifted to the stockade and he nudged his steed into a trot. At least he could enjoy a decent meal and one night's sleep before he planted tracks north, Hawk decided. Come the morrow, he would find the perfect spot to meet the murdering scoundrel who pursued him. Hawk intended to confront Half-Head once again, but he would not risk Rozalyn's life. She would be safe with the Sioux chief while he disposed of Half-Head.

 
The Sioux village, set amid the stately aspens and pines of the foothills, had not enjoyed a quiet moment since Chief Zitkantaka had brought Rozalyn back with him from Fort William. Rozalyn had made several attempts to escape from her wigwam, and the chief had been forced to post guards. By the end of the fourth day Zitkatanka was at his wit's end. He had generously offered Hawk's woman clothing worn by Sioux squaws, feasts of friendship, and a fine pony to ride during her stay. But Rozalyn had thrown one tantrum after another. Nothing could subdue her, except the sleeping potion the shaman had spoon-fed her the previous night. That was the first peaceful night in the camp since Roz had arrived.

 
Now Zitkatanka's face fell when he stepped into Rozalyn's tepee. It looked as if a cyclone had blown through it, upending the neat stack of buffalo hide quilts and eating utensils. Rozalyn stood in the middle of her wigwam, her feet apart, her eyes blazing with fury, and her wild hair tumbling about her shoulders. Never had the chief seen such a blatant display of anger in a woman!

 
"Take me back to Hawk this instant!" She shouted at the chief as if he were hard of hearing. She had awakened from her sleep-drugged dreams, infuriated that the medicine man and his assistant had held her down and forced her to swallow a foul-tasting sedative. "I will not remain here! Not another minute. Do you hear me?"

 
"Wakishaha ..." The chief mused aloud, his narrowed gaze surveying the damages. This fiery-tempered woman never strayed from her purpose. She was determined to have her way or make life miserable for those who thought to subdue her.

 
Zitkatanka had given his word to Hawk, but he was not certain how long his people would tolerate this belligerent white woman in their midst. There was already talk that she was possessed by demon spirits. Zitkatanka had tried to explain to them that Roz was Hawk's woman and that he himself knew her to be wild and unruly, but even he had expected nothing like this! Hawk was a blood brother of the Sioux, a man of honor. Zitkatanka greatly respected the half-breed, but his friendship was being sorely tested.

 
"Take me to Hawk!" Rozalyn gritted out, silently swearing she would make Hawk pay dearly for forcing her on the Sioux.

 
How dare he treat her like some domestic animal, bartering and trading her at whim. First he had used her to bargain with Aubrey. Now he had traded her to the Sioux for hunting privileges. Would she ever learn not to trust the conniving weasel? Hawk had claimed that she would be safer with the Sioux than with him, but Rozalyn knew he was only anxious to have her out from underfoot until the following summer.

 
Zitkatanka stared into Rozalyn's blazing blue eyes for a long, thoughtful moment. He owed Hawk a favor, it was true. But this woman was only manageable when she rode at Hawk's side. Although, he could not speak English, Zitkatanka knew what Rozalyn demanded. There are times when words are unnecessary to convey messages, and this was one of them. Rozalyn had expressed her displeasure by shouting and leaving her wigwam in a shambles.

 
Finally, Zitkatanka nodded in compliance. "Chan-yata." He stepped over to draw open the flap of the tepee. After gesturing to the west, he addressed Rozalyn with a faint smile. "Wiwasteka."

 
The tension drained from Rozalyn's body when she realized the aging chief had decided to grant her wish. She followed him outside and peered at the tall pines that towered to the west, just below the snow-capped peaks. When she fell into step behind Zitkatanka, Rozalyn noticed the wary expressions on the faces of those who had gathered about them. She had made a bad impression on the Sioux. No doubt, she would not be welcome if she ever returned.

 
But dammit, Hawk was not going to order her about, she told herself determinedly. She would not sit idly by while he traded her for favors and deceitfully claimed to have her best interest at heart. He didn't want her with him, but that was no reason to pawn her off on the Sioux nation!

 
When Rozalyn rode off with Chief Zitkatanka and three braves as escort, she mentally prepared the lecture she intended to give that scoundrel Hawk. She would damned well let him know exactly what she thought of his tactics. He had uprooted her from St. Lo
ui
s, and he was not going to conveniently tuck her out of sight when the mood suited him. When she got her hands on him, she'd pound some sense into him, she promised herself.

After easing back on the cot, Hawk smiled up at the Indian maiden who had graciously offered him her room and a massage for his tender shoulder. Chumani was more than willing to offer more. Indeed, there had been times when Hawk had come to Fort William with visions of this lovely Crow maiden dancing in his head. Chumani had been sold by the tribesmen to a white trapper two years earlier, but the man had perished in a snowslide while hunting in the mountains, so she had returned to Fort William to trade the fur pelts they had collected. Then she had remained at the stockade instead of returning to her people to be traded to yet another man.

 
Although Chumani was eager and willing to please him, Hawk had informed her that he had taken another woman and that he was tied to her, even though she lived among the Sioux. For the life of him, Hawk didn't know why he had confessed even the smallest amount of sentiment for that blue-eyed witch. Nor could he fathom why a woman who had once aroused him no longer appealed to him.

 
Chumani had quietly displayed her disappointment, but she had not become loud and vocal. That was not the way of this Indian squaw. Hawk knew full well if the situation had been reversed and it was Rozalyn he faced, she would have loudly protested. Why did he have an obsessive need for that fiery vixen when he could have Chumani who obeyed his demands without complaint?

 
Heaving a weary sigh, Hawk closed his eyes and relaxed beneath Chumani's gentle touch. He had spent the better part of a week setting traps to ensnare Half-Head, watching, awaiting an opportunity to strike. But the white man had never shown his grizzly face. Could Half-Head have perished from his wound? Where was the miserable brute?

 
"Are you feeling better,
Mais
hu?" Chumani questioned, calling Hawk by the name the Crow had given him.

 
"Much. . . ." Hawk breathed. "You have a gentle touch, Chumani."

 
A rueful smile rippled across her lips. Lovingly, she continued to massage Hawk's shoulder; then she applied a fresh poultice to the mending wound. "This woman of yours . . . she must possess great powers to win your loyalty,
Mais
hu." Carefully, she eased herself down by his side, continuing to speak to him in the Crow dialect. "There was a time when you and I were very close. I had hoped one day we—"

 
"I owe the woman my life." Hawk broke in before Chumani stirred up too many memories. He had a tender place in his heart for this Crow maiden he had known since childhood, but everything had changed now. Hawk's life was entangled with Rozalyn's, and only time could sort out the mess he had made of things. "I cannot easily forget my debt."

 
"I wish I were the one who had such a strong hold on your heart,
Mais
hu," she murmured. She leaned toward him, her dark eyes intently focused on his sensuous lips. "I have missed you these past months. . . ."

 
Her soft body brushed against Hawk's bare chest, and her lips opened in silent invitation. But it was not the same, Hawk thought miserably. There was no fire in her kiss, no breathless urgency compelling him to pull this shapely maiden into his arms. Hawk cursed himself a hundred times in that moment, for he knew only the blue-eyed spitfire made him burn with desire. Damn her! She had taken his freedom. Hawk could no longer touch another woman without comparing her to Rozalyn.

 
The feisty witch had cast a spell on him. He had once enjoyed the charms of many woman, but the feel of Chumani's skin and her feminine scent no longer tempted him. He wished he had not returned to the fort. He should have stayed in the wilderness, away from any female who might remind him that it was Rozalyn he wanted.

 
When the creaking of the door made Hawk and Chumani draw apart, Hawk cursed the intruders, not for interrupting their embrace, but simply because of who they were. There stood Rozalyn, her eyes blue fires. She looked as hostile as a Blackfoot war party. Behind her, Chief Zitkatanka was grinning at Hawk's uncomfortable predicament.

 
"So this is the real reason you traded me to the Sioux," Rozalyn hissed venomously.

 
Try as she might, she could not overcome her jealousy. She had spent the past week wondering if Hawk had met up with Half-Head and if the lout was still alive. But here he was, at the fort, camped in the room of an Indian woman, holding her in the very arms that had held Rozalyn not so long ago.

 
Hawk overlooked Rozalyn's stormy remark to fling an annoyed comment at Zitkatanka. "I thought you were my friend. You promised to keep the woman until I came to retrieve her," he snapped.

 
"If you were truly a friend of the Sioux you would not have forced this woman upon our people," the chief countered. "She has been shouting her anger since we took her from you."

 
"The great chief of the Sioux cannot control this mere wisp of a woman?" Hawk eased upright on the cot, his mouth twisting in a mocking smile. "Could it be that your trophies from battle were stolen from a worthier brave? How is it that you cannot keep one white woman in your midst without meeting with trouble when you have led your warriors into battle against fierce enemies and emerged the victor?"

 
The insult stung like the barb of an arrow, wounding the chief's male pride. He puffed up indignantly, his dark eyes glistening with anger. "This is no ordinary woman. She does not behave like a squaw and she is very determined to have her way. But her way is not that of our people. She is trouble—yours. . . ." Zitkatanka pointed a tanned finger at Hawk. "I did not bring this woman to this land. It was your doing. Soon, my people will journey to our winter village. I wish to gather our belongings on the travois before this woman tears our camp apart." His dark eyes narrowed on Hawk and he paused a moment before delivering his ultimatum. "If Hawk-that-Soars wishes to trap beaver in the Sioux nation he will take charge of his woman and let the red man live in peace."